


Abyssal Arguments

by Atol



Series: It Was Always You [1]
Category: Good Omens, Minecraft Youtubers
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide, Crowley and Aziraphale in the background doing their shit, Demon!Badboyhalo, Descriptions of harm, Good Omens AU, Hurt/Comfort, I based their looked off a combination of real looks and minecraft skins, M/M, NO DEATH, Paradise Found, angel!Skeppy, by way of holiness, dont worry, its BARELY touched upon in this this is background demon and angel shenanigans, this is the first time ive attempted skephalo i hope i did okay oh god oh man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26962573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atol/pseuds/Atol
Summary: They weren't high enough on the chain to be watched, it was nothing to meet throughout the ages. To argue and poke and prod at each other's buttons. But they always found each other, never far from the other, not for long. Not until an argument comes to a head, and Skeppy stays gone, until Bad can't handle the sense of being alone in a crowd.
Relationships: Skeppy/Badboyhalo, skephalo - Relationship
Series: It Was Always You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968790
Comments: 4
Kudos: 215





	Abyssal Arguments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BBGUM](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=BBGUM).



> This is for BBGUM! I heard them sing on Minus-Sass's stream and this is my heartfelt attempt at simping hardcore about their voice.

“Have you heard?” The black fluffy haired angel asked, his pale silver eyes glancing over to his companion. 

“You have to be more specific than that, Skeppy. I hear many things.” The demon responded after setting down the muffin he had been slowly picking apart. 

His face was thrown into darkness from under his hoodie. He had never quite gotten the hang of illusion to hide his obviously demonic features, his inhuman icy, almost white raven eyes too hard to explain away. His sleeves hid the patches of feathers that cropped up on his elbows and the downy fluff at his wrists. No it was much easier to hide it away when in public then struggle to create a demonic miracle that was clean enough to let him blend in. He flicked his eyes up to watch his friend, and they were, weren't they? Friends that is. Despite being hereditary enemies, despite being pitted against each other officially, by the book one could say. 

He had to keep his ears to the ground, always waiting for the shoe to drop. The duo had only been overlooked because there were bigger fish to fry, he had heard the mutters and grumbles from his fellow hellions whenever he had the displeasure to be the dank cold crowded place. Crowley had handed off the Anti-Christ, and now it was just a matter of waiting the few short years for the boy to come into his power. Only a short number of years until sitting at a table with his friend would be only a distant memory.

Skeppy only rolled his eyes and leaned on table between then, chin resting on his fist. 

“The ending of days, Bad. What else could I possibly be talking about.” He said with an annoyed look. 

“Ah, that. Yes. What of it?” Bad asked, sighing at the growing look of frustration on his friends face. 

“What do you mean? 'What of it', he says. As if this is below him to think about.” Skeppy said, exasperation clear on his face. “What of it, is this, when the fight comes where are we standing?”

Bad only crumbled the baked good in front of him into smaller and smaller crumbs, occasionally throwing bits of it directly at the cooing pigeons nearby. The overcast day meant that not too many were out and about, and the outdoor seating of the café was as good a place as any for one of their catching up da-meetings. Just meetings. 

Skeppy didn't let the silence sit for long, growling under his breath at Bad. Slamming both of his palms down on the table, he had the satisfaction of Bad finally looking him in the eyes. When he was distracted he snatched the muffin up, and threw it out in the street where it was descended upon quickly by the feathered pests. 

“Stop ignoring me. What are we going to do, Bad?” He asked, narrowing his gaze, daring the demon to try and deflect again. 

“You know very well what will happen, I don't see the point of discussing it.” Bad said after a moment, watching the crowd of flapping wings. 

“Fuck you.” Was the quick, snapped retort.

“Language!” 

“I still don't know why you care, it isn't as if it hampers your goals if anyone loses a bit of grace once in a while.” Skeppy said, leaning back with his arms behind his head. 

“Because, I do not like it. I don't need a reason, Skeppy.” Was Bad's repeated reply. 

“Whatever. Just answer the question, what's the plan for when sh-poop hits the fan.” Skeppy asked, only correcting himself at the glare he got from the demon. 

“There is no plan, other than the one you are already quite familiar with. Heaven and Hell will wage one last war. You will fight for your side, I will fight for mine, as is expected of us.” Bad said, refusing to meet the other's gaze. 

“That's it!? No escape, no plan B at all? You're just going to stand on your side and let it happen?” Skeppy shouted, his angelic grace radiating off of him in his rage. 

Leaning back with a grimace Bad tried to scoot his chair back enough to get outside of the range of the burning feeling licking at his skin. 

“What would you have me do instead, hm? It's a death sentence to go against such clear orders, this is what our respective sides have been working towards for eons. Everything about this very planet has been leading up to this very event. It's in God's plan!” He argued back. 

“And if I meet you on the battle field. Will you throw your little bottles of Hell Fire at me? Will you just stand there as I strike you down? Is that what you are going to do?” The angel asked, getting more and more upset as he spoke. 

Bad was silent, looking away from his friend, any words he would have tried to speak dying before they passed his lips. 

Scoffing, Skeppy stood up and looked at Bad from over his shoulder. 

“I don't understand how you can believe in God's Plan. After everything, after your Fall. After everything we have been through. How can you believe in such bullshit?” 

He watched his friend turn a corner and knew he was long gone. 

“Language...” He muttered to himself as he stared at the tattered wrapper of the muffin left on the ground. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't too out of the ordinary for them to fight. Bad had known Skeppy for centuries, since they had both been sent to Earth to keep track of things, to try and influence what they could for their respective sides. To try and just gain that much more of an upper hand. He himself had always done his job with the sort of perfunctory performance of someone dedicated to crossing all the t's and dotting all the i's. There was nothing to complain about, he achieved his goals and was diligent, yet it was clear to anyone that he had no passion for what he did. He did exactly what was expected of him, and no more than that. He did not revel in chaos, in disarray or the dealings he dealt. He did not go out of his way to gather souls, beyond what was in his quota. And no matter how many times they raised the numbers, he just complied, with no complaint. 

He knew somewhere deep within himself, he hesitated to call it a soul for he wasn't certain if he still possessed such a thing, that God's Plan was correct. That what was meant to pass would do so if he just followed his orders, because God would not allow him to do the things he did, to allow him to exist and do what he was made to do, without having accounted for it. If he was meant to tip the scales of desire with humans, if he was meant to be a stumbling block to prove themselves, whatever it was. He did what was expected because he believed that it was what he was meant to do. It mattered not if it hurt his feelings, if it made some spot in his chest ache as he watched the havoc that spread throughout humans as he methodically accomplished what he was ordered to do. 

He was a demon, and it was his burden to bear, his part to play in a plan so large in scope he could never dare try to reason it out. 

And perhaps, because he was a demon, and he knew it was expected of him to be selfish even if he didn't really see the draw of it often, perhaps it was this faith in what was meant to be that had attracted him to Skeppy. He had gone by Zaqiel when they had first met, hadn't gotten his strange human nickname until much later. The world hadn't had much time, it was shortly after the flood that they had crossed paths, and the rest as it was said, was history. 

They often had disagreements, on what the point of their existence was, on what God's Plan did and did not cover. On what were proper rules, what rules were expected to be broken and which to be followed. Sometimes over nothing so important as what way the toilet paper should hang. It didn't matter, it was their main mode of conversation, either heated arguments, or the Angel taking it upon himself to bother Bad to the point of his blood boiled, and he lost his hard fought for cool.

This disagreement though, it had been so calm, no long rambling screams and shouts, no cyclic barbs traded back and forth until they laughed and agreed to disagree. Skeppy had seemed to given up before it had barely gotten going, had given up on Bad.

He sat at that same table late into the night, unconcerned with the cold even as a light drizzle came down on him, soaking his clothes to his body. It mattered not, it was not nearly as horrible a sensation as going to Hell was, so he couldn't bring himself to bother moving. His mind was focused on the quiet, disappointed acceptance that had radiated off of Skeppy when he walked away from him. Something about the entire thing felt too final. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He spent a handful of years, looking for Skeppy. Each time an assignment came in he had finished it with a sort of ferocious vigor that confused his higher ups, so eager to get it done and over with so he could continue his searching for his friend. He often thought he had caught sight of the other's signature bright blue jacket, but each and every time there was no sign of him once he pushed through the crowd, or got off the train or subway he had thought he had seen him in only a moment ago. 

There was never a hint of even the smallest heavenly miracle in the air, and it frustrated him beyond belief. He had never had such a hard time locating the man, had always had an internal compass that unerringly pointed directly to the other. Now he was at a loss. The Armageddon was nigh, and he wanted nothing else so desperately as to speak to Skeppy. To laugh at something he said, or just watch his bright eyes widen in surprise in the rare moments that he managed it. He had hoped for nothing more than to enjoy every moment possible before he was forced to take part in the war.

He had felt it, much like all other demons, when the hell hound had been released. When that sheer amount of raw Hellish energy had came into Earthly existence. He felt it like a heavy despairing weight in his gut, because it was just one more piece of the puzzle that was becoming closer to one final picture. If he did not find Skeppy soon, he would likely never see him again for the rest of his being, and that thought stopped him dead in his tracks. He was unaware of the humans stepping around him on the busy street as he stood still, staring down at the ground as his body shook, an unfathomably deep sadness and regret flowing through him and trying to tug him into oblivion. 

For the first time, since his Fall, he questioned why he was even trying. Without Skeppy as the carrot at the end of the stick, without the promise of seeing him again, what was he doing? What was the point? What was the plan, what was the point of the plan, if Skeppy was not featured in it, wasn't with him?

It would take nothing, nothing at all to walk to the church located nearby. Nothing to wait until dark and step inside, to let the Godly Grace soaked in the floors and walls slowly burn him from the inside out. It would be nothing in comparison to the stillness inside his thoughts, the dark nothingness that was promised to him. His feet walked him through the crowd. Past blocks of humans who had no idea why they had a sudden urge to call their family and friends, had no idea why they suddenly thought of loved ones they hadn't thought to speak to recently suddenly come to mind. 

The demon Abaddon left a trail of confusion and impulsive phone calls and messages in his wake as he slowly trudged closer and closer to the church. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a discomfort under his skin. A too hot to hold for long, just shy of burning sensation, that tugged at his being and made his flesh feel tight, wrapped too close. He was at the gate of the church, looking up at the steeple, haloed by the night sky. The flesh on his palm was bubbled in a straight line from where he had grasped the iron wrought fence and pushed it open. He could sense a decades old Grim lurking in the shadows, but it seemed content to let him walk into certain death. Seemed to know that he was not there to do anything other than let the Grace consume him. 

His mind had not strayed far from the mental image he had of his angel in his mind. And wasn't that a thought that was years, decades, centuries, a millennium too late to be having. Skeppy was his, or at least he had hoped he was, and yet here he was. Steps away from the darkness, the abyss he was meant to embody, and he could think of nothing but the way his angel's crinkled when he laughed, the sound of his gasps whenever he had managed to surprise him with a particularly good joke or prank. The truth was that he was alone. That Skeppy wasn't his, and never was, never would be, and that thought, that feeling of despair drowning out anything else, was what had him slowly walking towards the church. 

Had him opening the doors, despite the pain, had him gazing at the stained glass high above his head even as his eyes watered from the pain. Had him kneeling at the front of the church, feet and legs slowly burning, his palms stuck to the smooth stone below him. It was a confusing combination of almost too cold to the touch, and the searing heat that coursed through him as he willed the Grace to just take him, to just finish it. 

For a moment he cursed God, the first time he had ever dared to question her truly, wondered what his suffering as such could possibly be useful for, what this feeling of emptiness in his chest could possibly be in the name of. He was blinded by tears of blood, the red taking over everything, the pain reaching the point of numbness. So much so, he didn't feel the frantic touches to his shoulders, was on the edge of consciousness and heard nothing of the shouts as he was physically hauled up into a fireman's carry and stolen off into the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He awoke, and the first thing before anything else was the confusion. Swiftly afterwards the pain followed, but that he had almost expected. Had set out to do. No, his confusion fell to the fact that he was obviously not still in the church. Blearily he looked around, before catching sight of the too bright, furious eyes of his an-of Skeppy. 

“What...?” He tried, his voice croaking as it tried to escape his ruined throat. 

“Shut up, you idiot.” Skeppy bit out, getting up and busying himself with some sort of platter and dropping it onto Bad's lap. “Eat. Shut up, and listen to me.”

Looking down at the food, he couldn't string enough of his thoughts together to manage to back talk, so he obeyed. 

“You, are the most irresponsible, infuriating being on this planet. You are stupidest, most heart stopping person I could ever have the displeasure of caring about. Don't you ever, EVER, dare do that again. You absolute fool.” Skeppy ranted, as he grew annoyed with the demons dull eyes growing more and more shiny. 

Slapping the demons hands away from the food he started to break the pastries into bite sized bits and feeding him, none-too-gently. 

“How dare you, you try and take yourself away from me. Never do that again, you sorry excuse for a Hellion.” He continued even as Bad gazed up at him in awe, mouth full of food and questions. “Sometimes I wonder how you got this far, truly.”

Swallowing the food quickly, Bad coughed around the sticky sweetness and reached out to grasp Skeppy's hand. 

“Because I had you.” He managed. 

Skeppy sighed as he held Bad's hand carefully in his own, tracing the quickly disappearing scars as they smoothed out. The lingering buzzing energy of a miracle in the air. The pain brief as the healing outraced the damage. 

“Obviously.” He scoffed, before getting up and looking out his window. 

Now that he was more aware of his surroundings, Bad recognized that he was in Skeppy's flat, the soft whirling noise of his computers fan in the background, and found himself ensconced in the thick comforter that was heavy and plush to the touch in Skeppy's oft ignored bed.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Skeppy's back, from drinking in the sight that he had been chasing so unerringly for the past few years. He wanted to cry, from how thankful he was, but his body nixed that idea. 

“So...you have a plan?” He asked. 

An olive branch. A careful yet desperate plea, a second chance begged for in so little words. 

Skeppy turned around with a grin, “Of course I do.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprisingly, or not, depending on your level of Omnipotence, they didn't need their plan. God's Plan seemed to steer another strange duo towards saving the world, and Bad couldn't be more thankful if he tried. As he laid on Skeppy's bed, watching the other drop carefully planned donations into the hands of those who needed it the most, to those that would turn around and do miracles of their own out in the world, a ripple effect of goodness with the least amount of effort on the angel's part, he could only smile. 

“Skeppy.” He said, scooting to the side and holding the blanket up. 

He needn't say anything more, it was a well practiced moment, that had been happening since they had been informed from their separate sides that the War was postponed until further notice. 

“So needy.” His angel teased, even as he logged off and climbed in, curling himself up on the demon's chest. 

“Needy? Skeppy, I think you mistakenly thinking of when you look in a mirror.” 

“You take that back, you Hellion.” 

“No, I could lie, but what's in it for me if I do?” 

“You already have me in your arms, what more could you possibly want, you selfish man.” Skeppy looked up at Bad with a false glare. “Unbelievable. Am I not enough for you?”

“You are the more than enough. The only one I need.” Bad said, pressing a peck to the others lips.

“Finally, something we can fucking agree on.” He muttered as he returned the gesture.

“Language!”


End file.
